Mother Dearest's Darlin' Boy
by 64hotrodthunderbolt
Summary: A series of drabbles regarding Ezra's growing up years, from Maude's point of view. An attempted insight into their love/hate relationship. Rated T for mild violence & mild language. Mostly written, just a matter of finding time to proofread, format, and post. Might be a few drabbles depicting scenes from the show, with Maude's thoughts, coming. Enjoy! :)
1. A Son Was Born

**A/N: In my opinion, there will never be enough Mag7 fics on FF. (most of them are on blackraptor or all-ezra, you know). Because of this, I thought what the hey, I'll get on board.**

**There aren't very many stories regarding Maude Standish (Ezra's mother), nor are enough of them from her POV. Still fewer are regarding Ezra's childhood, and pretty much none of the stories that depict Ezra's growing up years are from Maude's perspective.**

**A lot of people hate Maude, call her an uncaring woman who doesn't love her son and will use anything or one to get her way or her money. I disagree strongly. I believe that Maude loves her son. I think she really believes it when she says, "I did the best I could. I'm sorry if it wasn't enough." to Ezra in Witness. I also believe that there's a reason she "dumped him on every aunt and uncle she could find. Unless of course she needed him. For a con."**

**I know better than to try and start a big giant multichapter depicting Maude and Ezra's life stories. ****_(If you're looking for one of those, 'The Making of Ezra Standish' and 'The Making of Mrs. Standish' are both here on FF, by PyschedelicCowgirl and are great contenders)_**** I'd never have any hope of finishing it and I'd get bored much too quickly. So I've decided on a compromise: A series of drabbles. As long or short as I feel it needs to be, each posted as a separate chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy! Long live the Magnificent Seven fandom! :)**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Magnificent Seven... I suspect that right goes to MGM.**

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Childbirth was messy, painful, long winded, and bloody. Maude didn't think she wanted to go through it ever again, and she mentally cursed the man who left her to do this alone at least twenty times during the process.

Then they placed this little baby in her arms. "A boy, Miz Standish," grinned the slave who was her midwife.

Maude stared down at the thing, which she was afraid she would hold wrong and some harm would come to as a result, and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. She couldn't help it; he somehow won her over as soon as she looked at him. He had these cute little hands that curled open and shut, and an adorable little button nose, and he was so very tiny. And he was all hers.

She stared at him for a long time.

"What'll ya call 'im, Miz Standish?"

Maude looked up, before returning her eyes to her… to her son. Lord, she had a son.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I'll think on it a bit."

The dark midwife, Patsy, nodded sympathetically. "You wanna rest now, ma'am?"

"Uh, yes." Maude stammered. She handed her son to Patsy, who grinned down at him as she started from the room.

"Patsy," Maude said. Patsy paused at the door. "Yes, Miz Standish?"

"You take good care of my darlin' boy, you hear?" Maude said, in the tone she used to demand fair treatment for her genuine French Leather Luggage.

Patsy glanced over her shoulder and grinned. "Yes ma'am," she said, before she walked out the door.


	2. Ezra P Standish, Indeed

**A/N: Maude's interactions with Patsy are based off of how she interacted with Nathan's father, Obadiah, in The Trial. I believe she treated slaves just like everyone else, for the most part.**

**Reviews are appreciated, as is criticism!**

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"Guess who's wantin' ta see his mama!" Patsy's voice broke into Maude's thoughts the next morning, as she came into the room with her son in her arms.

Maude looked over at her, struggling to cap her Mother's Pride and Anxiousness with a poker face. It wasn't working. "How is he?" _Why am I getting so attached to him? I should know better!_

"Jus' fine, ma'am, jus' fine," grinned Patsy. "But he's a hungry boy, and you know the only one who can help that!"

"Yes, of course," Maude said, and took her son from Patsy. She looked down at him a moment- he was so much more adorable now than he had been as a newborn- and took care of the feeding aspect, while Patsy took care of the room. She bustled around, lighting a fire in the fireplace, sweeping the floor, putting fresh water in the wash basin….

"Patsy?"

Patsy spun around, pitcher still in hand. "Yes, Miz Standish?"

"How did you name your kids?" Maude hated to admit that she was at a loss, but this was serious. You didn't flounder your way through naming a child. It had to be done right.

"Well, I'd look at 'em and think what they reminded me of, an' then I'd think on it an' figger out what name should go with it." Patsy said.

Maude nodded once, returning her gaze to the bundle in her arms.

"I think," Maude's voice disturbed the peace some time later, "you are going to be… Ezra. Ezra Patrick Standish… after all, I suppose it is only proper to have your father's name in there somewhere."

Patsy turned around again, looking thoughtfully upon Maude. "Ezra," she repeated. She grinned. "I think that's a right fine name, Miz Standish." She turned back to her work. "Right fine."

Maude, aware that no one was looking, smiled down at Ezra Standish. "Yes, indeed."


	3. Midnight Run

**A/N: I believe that the way Maude said "We're business people. We're the best at what we do." was about more than just her and Ezra. In this time period, families often carried on the same trade for generations. I think the reason Maude is so... contradictory, and the reason her heart has been so hardened against what she views as a cynical world, is because she was raised that way. I think that's why she raised Ezra that was too.**

**I also think she doesn't understand why she loves her son the way she does, or how to deal with it, which can cause her to act somewhat unlovingly towards him. I'm not justifying her actions; she's obviously hurt Ezra many times. But there must be a reason, and I think that's it.**

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Maude paced from one end of her hotel room to the other, and back again. What was she to do?

They didn't know where she was, not yet anyway, but somewhere out there was a whole bunch of men out for blood. And, probably, their money.

Well, she'd left them enough to eat and sleep tonight, but she hated to tell them- she needed to do that much as well. And so did her darlin' baby boy.

She looked down at Ezra. He was asleep- thankfully. If they somehow found out she had a baby, and if they somehow figured out that the crying they heard was from her baby, she shuddered to think what they'd do.

As if on cue, a pair of too-large green eyes fluttered open and blinked sleepily up at her.

She put on her brightest smile for his benefit. "Hello, Ezra darlin'."

Thank heavens, he didn't cry this time. He smiled at her instead, reaching for her. She sighed, glanced around to make sure all the windows were covered, and granted his request.

With Ezra happy, at least for the moment, she resumed pacing.

There was only one thing she could do- she had to get out of town, as quickly as possible, without being seen or heard. That would be easier said than done with Ezra, and a posse looking for her.

She looked down at her son. Should six-month-old babies even be taken on break-neck horse rides? She honestly had no idea. She wished Patsy could travel with her. She'd always know what to do- she had, what, four kids? Lord, how had she managed it!

He was apparently asleep again. She sighed. This was crazy. It wasn't going to work. Everytime she pulled a con, everytime she went out to put food on the proverbial table, she was putting Ezra in danger.

Nevermind Patsy coming along; she should've left Ezra with Patsy. Lord knows she'd raise him right. She herself just didn't know how this whole motherhood thing was going to work out.

She did love him so. It would be the death of her, heck, maybe the death of him too, but she loved him. He was her son. He was her son, and she loved him, and there wasn't anything she could do about it now. He was her vulnerability, her weakness. He could inadvertently get her killed someday. She shuddered at the thought. He would probably blame himself for that, or perhaps grow to resent her memory, or perhaps try to avenge her death- so many ugly scenarios, all because she loved him. This must have been what her father meant when he taught her the lesson about not loving. "Either you're a player, or you're a mark. No one is anything more. As long as you never try to play a player, you're always safe that way."

And here she was, setting her son, and herself, up for all kinds of potential pain and failure. And she was powerless to stop it. Well, she resolved, her son would never have to deal with this- that lesson of her father's, she'd make sure it was well ingrained in him. She would raise him better than that.

She glanced around the room one last time, before shifting Ezra to one arm and grabbing their bags with the other. She checked the hall, and finding it empty, she dropped what she owed for the room in an envelope on the bed and left the room.

She stole down the back stairs, praying Ezra wouldn't cry or laugh or anything to give her away, and made her way to the stables, where she had her horse saddled, while she waited impatiently, afterwards tipping the stable boy. She gathered her things, and Ezra, and climbed into the saddle. She jabbed her heels into the horse, and sent it galloping wildly from the back door of the stables.

Ezra's eyes popped open, first in surprise, then in fear. She did the best she could- offered him a one armed hug. "I know, darlin', but we'll be just fine. You'll see," she whispered.

She glanced over her shoulder, then ducked low over Ezra in the saddle as she heard a gunshot behind her somewhere. She hoped she hadn't just lied to her darlin' boy.


	4. False Security

**A/N: Thank you so very much for the kind review tellygirl! I'm glad you've enjoyed it. That's why I publish this stuff after all. :)**

**If you hadn't noticed, there's a drabble a year here... I've been subtlety slipping in an age marker into each drabble.**

**And here takes root the very beginning of the whole "you dumped me" scenario. I still think Maude was misguided in doing it, but I think she believes it was the right thing to do.**

"Mama?"

Maude forced herself not to react to the hopeful plea.

Betsy Martin, a young woman whom Maude had paid to keep Ezra in the saloon but safely away from the high-stakes poker game she was running, scooped up the little boy and placed him on her hip. "Your mama will be back soon," she soothed.

Maude laid down her cards. "Full house," she smiled. She raked the pot in to her.

Smiling at the men, she stacked the winnings together and stuffed them into her purse. "Thank you for a lively game, gentlemen," she said politely, standing up and gathering her skirts to walk away from the table. She went up to the bar and ordered a drink, which she sipped at she watched Betsy lead her son from the saloon in the mirror.

When she was sure no one would connect her and the boy that had left, she paid for her drink and sashayed out of the saloon.

She walked down the street, using her handkerchief trick to acquaint herself with a passing man who looked like a prospective mark, just in case. She met with Betsy in the hotel lobby.

"Mama!"

Maude smiled at her son, before turning to Betsy.

"Thank you so much for watching him," Maude gushed, handing the girl an extra dollar, as she reached down for Ezra's hand. He latched onto her fingers tightly.

"He wasn't any trouble," smiled Betsy, accepting the dollar eagerly.

"Why, of course not, he's my son!" Maude said.

As Betsy left the hotel, Maude knelt down in front of Ezra, adjusting his little jacket. "Now, Ezra, we talked about this," she said. "When Mama's working, you have to keep away, alright?"

The brown head nodded solemnly.

"Good," Maude said. She stood up and offered her hand again, straightening her skirts and hat as she did so. "Shall we go for dinner, Ezra?"

"Yes, Mama," agreed her one-year-old-son.

As they started for the door, Betsy came dashing through it, breathless. "Mrs. Standish!" she called. She stopped when she saw her quarry. "Oh, there you are! Mrs. Standish, those men in the saloon are getting drunk and… and I don't think it's going to be safe for you here much longer," she said.

Maude scooped Ezra up in her arms and ran for the stables, praying the stable boy would hurry. This was getting crazy. One of these days, they would figure out who Ezra was to her and he'd pay for her career. There had to be a better way.


	5. Away For A Day

When Maude drove a carriage, procured with her ill gotten gains, into Kansas City, she was on the lookout for someone who could keep Ezra safe while she milked the townspeople for all they were worth. After all, they'd been all through the north, and were now to the midwest- she intended to garner enough funds to take them back to the south to start the circuit over again.

She brought the carriage to a stop before the livery and started down; she was soon assisted by the liveryman.

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted her, as he helped her down.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she returned. She watched as he smiled at Ezra and swung him to the ground, eliciting a giggle.

"Would you be so kind as to take care of my horse?" she smiled at the man.

"Of course," he said. She paid him the sum he named, and taking Ezra by the hand, she started down the street towards the hotel- one on the opposite end of the Kansas City from the end she intended to frequent.

At the hotel, she saw a man and a woman who was carrying a baby. Being the judge of character she was, she picked them out for kind, soft hearted people, who wouldn't allow harm to come to a child. This in mind, she approached them.

"Excuse me," she said, "I just received word that a friend of mine is sick. I was going to spend the day with her, but I don't want my darlin' boy to be exposed to anything…. I know this must be a terrible imposition, but could you watch him for me?"

The young mother turned a smile on Maude. "Why, we would be happy to, Mrs…"

"Maude Standish," she introduced herself.

"And what's your name, son?" asked the young father, kneeling down in front of Ezra.

Maude paused, waiting to see if Ezra would remember one of the first lessons she'd taught him- he was only two, after all, so she was starting small. Children with impeccable manners were less likely to do something to offend someone; and the last thing she wanted was someone taking their anger against her out on Ezra. She was determined he would never give anyone a reason to.

Ezra stuck out a small hand. "Ezra P. Standish, at your… limited service, sir."

The man laughed and accepted the hand, and then ruffled his hair. "You don't have to sir me any, Ezra. I'm just Tom."

"Yes, S- Mr. Tom." Ezra glanced up at his Mama. She had strictly instructed him to use the proper names of those who watched him, and also to do as they said. This man was contradicting her lessons, and he wanted to make both of them happy. When she nodded ever so slightly at him, he grinned.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dawson," the others introduced themselves. Mrs. Dawson smiled down at the baby in her arms. "And this is Angela."

"What an adorable baby," Maude complimented her.

"We're staying here, in room 211. You can come get him whenever you're ready, Mrs. Standish." Tom said.

"Oh, thank you so much. I'm indebted to you," Maude gushed.

"I'm sure he won't be any trouble," smiled Mrs. Dawson.

"Why, of course not, he's my sweet baby boy!" Maude said, smiling in the most exaggeratedly proud fashion she could muster. She had to make the best impression on these people she could. There was a fine line between people thinking "she needed someone to watch her son for a few hours" and "she wanted to dump her son for a few hours". She intended to stay on the south side of it.

Maude knelt down before Ezra. "Now, Ezra, darlin', Mama's got to see her friend. You remember what I told you to do?"

Ezra knew this was code- the thing he was supposed to remember, was that Mama wasn't seeing any friend. Mama was working, but that was a secret, and anyone who asked needed to know that Mama was visiting a sick friend. He nodded solemnly at his mother. "Yes, Mama," he said.

She smiled at him, leaning down to kiss him. "Now, you be a good boy for Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, you hear?"

Ezra nodded. "I love you, Mama."

Maude froze, temporarily. She couldn't actually say it, could she?

"I too, son. Goodbye." There, a compromise.

She stood and walked out of the hotel, heading for the doctor's office until the couple and her son could no longer see, before changing direction to the saloon. Tom Dawson swung Ezra up into the air as they walked up the stairs, and Maude entered a saloon on the other end of the large and bustling Kansas city.

When she and her carriage and her son galloped from Kansas city the following week, she knew that even keeping her son on the other side of town while she ran a con wasn't enough to keep him safe, No, something more drastic had to be done to keep both of them safe.


	6. Gone Away

**A/N: Uh Oh. As far as I'm concerned, this is where Maude went wrong, whether she realized it or not, nor matter how she justified it in her head... it wasn't good for her relationship with her Ezra, nor was it good for her.**

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"But, Mama! I want to stay with you. Please? Please, Mama, I'll be good. I promise. I'll do everything you say! I want to stay with you, please?"

Maude hardened her heart against her son's pleas, although a tiny spark of motherly pride at his command of language at the age of three could not be squelched. She knelt down in front of him and said, "But, darlin' it'll only be for a little while. I promise you, you'll hardly miss me and I'll be back. And you'll love it here with Aunt Rose."

"You promise, Mama?"

"I promise, son."

"Alright," Ezra finally conceded. "Goodbye, Mama."

Maude couldn't help but notice how Ezra left off the, 'I love you Mama' bit. Following her example, no doubt.

She told herself she didn't miss hearing it.

She didn't, did she? No, of course not! Maude Standish didn't care for sappy words and gestures, not at all... did she?

"Goodbye, Ezra."

As she climbed into the stage, waving to her little boy once or twice before turning around again, she couldn't help but wonder how long this could last.


	7. I Came For You

**A/N: This is almost too long to be a drabble in my mind, lol, but here it is. And so begins the training phase!**

**Thank you for the follow and fav, whoever you are! And while I refuse to actually beg for reviews, I will say that I write to give people enjoyment, and if you're getting enjoyment, I'd really like you to let me know so I have a reason to keep writing. :)**

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As the carriage rumbled towards the plantation owned by Ezra's Aunt Delilah and Uncle Andrew and their family, Maude thought about what she was about to do.

She was going to start teaching Ezra how to take care of himself. How to handle the world. How to live in the modern universe. He needed to learn, and now that he was a year older, she figured he'd be a little safer, as long as they were careful.

She didn't know what she'd do if anything happened to him.

He'd need to learn how to make a living without relying on other people, not even her. She knew at least one career that would be sufficient, and it helped that she was very proficient in it herself. She knew she had to teach him these things as quickly as she could- while he was still young enough to accept whatever she said and did at face value, purely because she was his mother.

She steadfastly ignored the voice in her head that accused her of betraying her own son.

It was for his own good, wasn't it? Of course it was. He couldn't trust other people to watch out for him, just like she could never trust other people to watch out for her, and her father could never trust people to watch out for him. That was why he was dead. That was why Patrick was dead too.

Ezra could trust only himself to watch out for number one, and keep himself alive and unharmed. She would see to it that it was a skill he learned well, partly for his own good and partly for her own… selfish reasons.

She really didn't know what she'd do if anything ever happened to him.

It wasn't going to be easy. She was one of the best judges of character, the best readers of people, that had ever existed on that side of the Mississippi. She'd told herself she married Patrick for his money, but she'd married richer before. The truth was, she slipped, and she loved him, and look where it got her? Heartbroken when his relatively casual gambling ways (compared to her, at any rate) got him killed, relying on a partner who wouldn't risk his neck for her husband. Patrick was a soft-hearted man. He never cleaned someone out completely, he always tried to talk his way out of violence before he drew a weapon, and he was always a sucker for a sad story, even from a criminal. And, Lord help him, Ezra was just like his father. Making him into a ruthless conman would be the challenge of a lifetime. She couldn't just convince him that the world was a cynical and deadly place, out to get him, with words. She had to show him the betrayal.

Oh, she hated herself for it, but it was the only way.

The questions was, would he hate her for it?

She firmly instructed that voice in her head that if he did, it wouldn't matter, because that would reinforce the knowledge that he could rely on no one to take care of him.

That didn't make the little pang she felt any less though.

Well, she resolved to herself as the carriage rolled to a stop a few feet from the house, whatever was going to happen, she was going to see her darlin' boy and tell him he was coming with her. At least, his anticipated joy at that thought would be something to see.

When Maude got off the stage, she knew right away that something was different. Unlike the last four or five times she'd come to see her son, he wasn't waiting for her by the carriage, nor was he running out to greet her.

She walked slowly up to the portico, and found Ezra sitting on the porch swing reading a book that looked much too large for his age.

A feeling of dread crept into her heart. If he was anything like his father- and he was- he would shy away from things that were painful. He was hurt every time she left him, even if she did do it for his own good, and she had worried that he would shut her out.

If that wasn't what he was doing, then he was at least contemplating the thought.

"Ezra, darlin," She greeted him.

He glanced up at her as if he'd not known she was there. But he had, she knew he had. She could read it in his eyes.

"Mother?" He said, calmly placing his book aside and sliding off the swing to come over to her.

That was like a glass of cold water to the face. Mother? What had happened to Mama? She knew adult men who'd never grown out of 'Mama'.

She knew, even as he stood dutifully and stiffly and allowed her to kiss him with no real reaction, that she had come for him none too soon. He was being turned against her by someone. Delilah or Andrew or… or, himself, she hated to think, but that was probably true.

Or, maybe that's your doing, the voice that wouldn't shut up said.

"Where's your aunt and uncle?" Maude asked her son.

"Inside," said Ezra.

She couldn't help but watch her son from the corner of her eye. He was obviously excited. She could see it in his eyes. The rest of his face, though, was mostly bored looking. She would definitely need to work on it with him, but his poker face would no doubt be superb some day.

She went inside and talked to Ezra's Aunt and Uncle, and after a few minutes, she regrouped with Ezra.

"Well, Ezra, would you like to show me your room?" she asked her son.

His little face became a bit less guarded as she allowed herself to be dragged up the stairs behind him, to take a tour of the… well, rather meager room he had been assigned by Delilah. Not for the first time, she got a bad feeling about Delilah and Andrew. They seemed nice enough, but she wondered about their competence to care for children, especially since they had none of their own.

"We went for ice cream once, Mother, when we went to town," Ezra was saying.

"What of the other times you went to town?" Maude said, trying to ignore the mother bit.

"We didn't," Ezra said, sounding confused by her question. "Most the time, they don't let me outside the house anyway."

Maude's faint, but still very much there, motherly instincts flared up in anger when she heard that. No one was going keep her boy locked up!

She sat down on the bed and placed Ezra on her lap. "Well, Ezra, how would you like to go to a town now?"

Ezra's head shot up, eyes searching for hers. "With you, Mother?"

Maude smiled. "Yes, son, with me. I'd like to continue your lessons."

Ezra's joy broke through his protection mode, and he sent a pair of skinny arms around her neck. She made double sure no one would see the hug she returned or the kiss she gave, and she cut it short soon, just in case. She did have a reputation to maintain, after all.

Ezra bounced down the stairs again ahead of her, his four-year-old pizazz for life and happiness back again with vengeance.

When a slave or two had loaded their things into the carriage, and they were on their way to the train station, to head for New York, she couldn't help but think that even though it didn't look like Ezra was trying to hide from her anymore, he still called her Mother.


	8. Can I buy you a drink (with your money)?

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely review mikiss! (forgive me if I've misspelled that). I'm glad you are enjoying it. I certainly intend to continue until this thing is deemed finished by my muse. :p**

**It's actually a lot harder than you'd think it is, to come up with believable cons for little boys to pull, that are equal parts clever and devious. lol.**

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"Now, you remember what to do, darlin'?" Maude questioned one last time.

"Yes, Mother." Ezra said.

Maude nodded; she didn't know why she bothered to ask. Ezra was always good at this. "Alright, go on now."

She watched from a dainty seat on the outer edges of the saloon, as her son wandered up to a couple of cowboys who were playing a game of penny poker.

He made a show of sliding up into a chair at their table and smiling innocently at them. "Hello," he said.

The men glanced up, and after trading glances, smiled at the little boy. "Howdy, son."

"Your ma know you're in here?" One of them asked.

Ezra shrugged. "Don't know," he said, and sat back in the chair and watched them play their casual game. After several rounds had been played, and both cowboys had won about as much as they'd lost, he figured he'd seen enough of their tells.

"Can I play?" he asked.

The taller cowboy smiled at the innocent sounding question. "Well now, I don't reckon your Ma'd appreciate that."

"Aw, she won't care. And I won't tell." Ezra sat up straighter, looking expectantly at the men. "Please?"

"Well, Fred," the shorter one said to the taller one- Fred- "I don't see what harm it could do. We'll go easy on him."

Fred thought about it. "Okay, Clance, we'll let him play, but I'll blame you if this ever comes up, okay?"

Clance chuckled. "Yup." He turned to Ezra. "So, you wanna learn how to play, son?"

Ezra nodded eagerly.

"Well, okay…" the mens' voiced trailed off as they described the rules of the game in little-kid-speak, complete with demonstrations.

Imagine their surprise when, just eight short hands later, a little boy walked out of the saloon with their entire two week's pay- but not before inquiring if he could buy them a drink.

Maude exited the saloon after her son, and led him to an alley near by to count and secret the money. "Good work, darlin'." She praised him. "One more night of this, and we'll have what we need to get to Georgia and make a killing."

Ezra beamed at her praise, but a look from her sent his amataur poker face back into place.

"But, before we do that, I think you should pay a visit to your Aunt Grace."

Ezra's miniature poker face- the one that he came by naturally whenever he felt threatened, not the one he called up on command- slammed into place as he looked up at her.

"Why, Mother? What did I do?"

Maude was an expert at turning off her feelings. She'd kept them off for years, most of her life, in fact. That was why it surprised her so much when it was difficult to do it this time. Nevertheless, she did it. She detached herself from the situation, and she said briskly, "Why, nothing at all, Ezra, whatever put an idea like that into your head?" She smiled at him- it wasn't real, and they both knew it. "I just think it's prudent to disappear for awhile. Half the East is out for our blood, and the other half is scared to death of us! And besides, it's best if we disappear separately."

"Yes, Mother," was the resigned answer. She thought she heard a sniffle coming from his direction. While one, tiny, ignored part of her wanted to hug him right then and there, the in-control, detached part of her that was trying to un-soften her soft-hearted boy instead said, "Now, Ezra, you're not going to cry on me, are you? You are almost six, and you're a gentleman, and gentlemen don't cry, Ezra."

Ezra blinked up at her once, then nodded. She flashed her too-bright smile at him again, offering him her hand. He took it automatically, and they walked toward the train station, intent upon ignoring the wedge that was slowly being driven between mother and son.

**A/N: I just have to add, a five-year-old Ezra having the audacity to inquire if he might buy his now thoroughly conned marks a drink with what was formerly their money is probably a little unrealistic as far as age goes, but I couldn't resist. Really, I can picture it in my head, right down to his expression and the looks on the cowboy's faces.**

**Also, random but I feel necessary: Don't worry anyone out there- I don't plan to villainize Maude, nor do I plan to try and justify all of her actions. I just stand the middle ground with her, really.**


	9. Did the Means Justify the Ends?

**A/N: Thank you tellygirl! I am very happy you're enjoying this! :) Ah, I felt sorry for the cowboys as well. :p**

**As for Ezra, well, the worst is yet to come, so do brace yourselves.**

**Maude would no doubt translate her love for her son as a need to protect him. She protect him with her own experience of what she considers a cynical and jaded world. She would believe it her duty as Ezra's mother to make sure he is safe, unhurt, and the best at what he does. And she would do that by raising him how she was raised, which is my personal interpretation of Maude's personality explanation.**

**And this, my friends, is what happens when she thinks she is doing the best she can.**

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"Six years old, and already so handsome!" gushed Mr. Farren. He gave Ezra a pat on the shoulder.

Maude smiled at him demurely. "Of course, Mr. Farren, he's my son," she said. "Where are you going?"

"The restaurant," said Mr. Farren.

"Why, we were just on our way over there now," Maude exclaimed. "Perhaps you could escort me?"

Mr. Farren only hesitated a moment before grasping Maude's extended hand. "My pleasure," he smiled.

"Come along Ezra," Maude said, holding out her other hand. When Ezra took it, they walked to the restaurant.

A course or two later, Maude was sadly telling her new friend about how her husband had been taken by fever, and about how she and her son had to make ends meet in his old investment business. He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. The next thing she knew, he was agreeing to assist her by investing a considerable sum.

Ezra's job was simple: keep him distracted, so Maude could drag out the whole story, milking him for all the money he was worth, until she had to break the news to him that he'd lose all his money because one of her agents was dirty and stole all of their money.

Oh, Ezra was good at it, no doubt. He asked the man endless questions, he begged for stories, he asked if they could go fishing, he followed him around like a lost dog claiming he wanted to "help"... he was a natural. Maude was definitely proud of her son. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as she'd thought. Maybe he would be a natural at even the more hard-hearted aspects of a con.

Days later, when it was time to break the news, Maude knew this would be a real test of what little Ezra was made of. This was the part of a con that Patrick had blatantly refused to do, the part where you prepared to shoot someone's dreams down.

"Now, sit down, Ezra." Maude said to her son, motioning him into a chair across from her in their hotel room. When he complied, she began, "Alright. Now, the next step in the con, is to prepare him for the fall. Instill worry into him. You remember Mr. Davids?"

Ezra nodded. Mr. Davids was a man Maude was splitting the loot with, as long as he posed as her dirty agent- a fellow con man.

"Well, Mr. Davids' part in the scheme relies on Mr. Farren believing that he is really a gang member. Of course, he isn't, so we'll need to improvise, and to accomplish that we'll need you, Ezra."

"What do I need to do, Mother?"

"You are aware that Mr. Ferrand always carries a watch." Maude said.

"Yes, I am," Ezra replied in some trepidation, clearly not liking where this was headed.

"Mr. Ferrand will need to believe that one of Mr. David's men stole it. And since Mr. Davids is really without a gang, you'll need to be the one who steals it." Maude explained.

"No."

Maude froze, for a fraction of a second. "Excuse me?"

"I said no, Mother."

"Why in the world not?" Maude demanded, even though she was fairly certain she knew why.

"Didn't you hear about that watch?" Ezra asked of his mother.

She had, in fact, heard. On one of Ezra's missions to distract, the story he'd asked for was told about Mr. Ferrand's father, a brave and noble man, killed unjustly when Mr. Ferrand was thirteen. Since then, he had carried his father's watch in his memory, and because it was a reminder of things that were never meant to be. It was the only thing of his father's that he had, the only thing that kept the memory alive. It was a sad story. There wasn't any way Ezra would be happy about this, but he had to at least do it, whether he liked it or not.

"Of course I did, darlin', but it isn't worth much," Maude said, in feigned obliviousness.

"In money, no, but in memories, it's priceless."

Maude would have choked if she hadn't had a job to do. 'In memories it's priceless?' Good Lord! There was no way Ezra Standish was going to go around saying things like that! He was supposed to be a con man, for pete's sake, not a preacher.

"Now, you listen to me, Ezra Standish," Maude said firmly. "You ask me why I don't take you with me. This is exactly why. This entire con hinges upon you, Ezra, and now you are failing me, as well as Mr. Davids. Now, are you in, or aren't you? If you are not, I believe your uncle William could use an extra boy to help out with the chores around the plantation to earn his keep."

Ezra's face blanched at the mention of Uncle William. For some reason, and Maude couldn't figure out why, Ezra really hated the man, and would do anything to stay away from him. This meant, of course, that she was practically blackmailing her six-year-old son, but still- it was all for his own good. That's what she'd decided. It was all for his own good, that's what she'd informed all her feelings, and then she'd promptly exercised her talent in detachment and, emotionally anyway, left the situation. If there was any talent she was glad her father had taught her, it was that one.

Ezra stared up at her for all of ten seconds. Then, slowly, he nodded.

She smiled. "That's my boy. Now, here's how I want you to do it…"

Two days later, Ezra stood next to a graveside, face studiously blank as his Mother had taught him, even though he couldn't prevent tears from escaping down his too-empty expression. Maude stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. She didn't know if that helped him out or not. Ezra had broken one of the most important rules in his trade- he'd become emotionally invested in the mark, and look where that got him? Here, at the funeral of a man who apparently lost everything he owned (how was she supposed to know he was only pretending to be stinking rich?) and had taken his own life as a result. And, for pete's sake, she felt a little guilty too. She needed to get Ezra hardened up a bit before he turned the both of them soft.

But first, she needed money- a lot more money, because she was going to try an entirely new con, without Ezra's help; give him a chance to get over what was no doubt anger against her for this mess.

Yes, she would take Ezra with her to earn some money- enough to get the stake on the highest poker games in the country, and leave the tables with everything available.

She'd leave Ezra with… someone… not William, but someone, and come back for him when the new con was over.

It was always good to have a plan, even if an always-ignored voice in your head told you it was full of holes.


	10. The Only Acceptable Answer

**A/N: mikiss, thank you for the review! I don't know if I agree with your assessment or not, mostly because I've no idea which definition of scrupulous you're referring to, lol.**

**The rating is about to go up to T for.. well, you'll see. Trust me, I am a relatively mild person and tried to keep it that way, but my muse ran away with me there for a minute. :P**

**I've broken my little one-drabble-a-year rule and will have two for Ezra's seventh year of life. The reason is because of something I can't tell you till I get to the Author's Note on the bottom, lol.**

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"Millie! I didn't expect you for a good three days!" Mr. Candon said in excitement as he helped Maude- currently "Millie"- down from the carriage. Mr. Candon was Maude's fourth husband, or would be very soon. He would also make her a relatively rich woman… he didn't know that yet.

"I simply couldn't wait to return, Terrance, I've missed you so," she gushed, wearing her best imitation loving smile.

"As have I," returned Mr. Candon, although he most undoubtedly wasn't pretending.

"Terrance," Maude said, "I'd like you to meet my son," and she turned back to look at the carriage door, from which Ezra leaned, "Ezra."

Even though _"Ezra"_ was part of her introduction, she said it as more a reprimand than a greeting; and Ezra immediately straightened like a ramrod, adopting the perfect posture which Maude had been working with him on ruthlessly. Maude smiled at him, then at Mr. Candon.

"Nice to meet you, son," said Mr. Candon, with what Maude knew to be false cheerfulness. He had gone tense as soon as the word son came into the conversation.

Ezra nodded politely. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir," he said in the most grown-up way he could master at seven years of age.

Maude turned back to her future husband- and future former husband, according to her plan. "He'll be staying with his Uncle Ethan in Maryland, where there is a most reputable boarding school."

Mr. Candon visibly relaxed, apparently happy to know it would just be he and Millie, and no children. "Of course, only the best for our son," he said cheerfully.

Maude nodded brightly, even though that faint-but-there motherly instinct flared up in protest at the words "our son"- no, my son, sir, the voice corrected. Not yours, never will be. You don't even pretend to like him, and you just met him not three minutes ago!

Maude turned to Ezra, and taking advantage of his height standing in the carriage door, she stepped up to him. "Now, Ezra darlin', you remember what we talked about?"

Ezra nodded. "Yes, Mother."

Maude stepped back to look up at the carriage driver. "You make sure he and his luggage get on that train alright, you hear?" she said sharply. Without waiting for a response, she stepped up to her son, ignoring the muted hurt that appeared in the green eyes- which always reminded her of Patrick- everytime she left. "Son, I want you to practice your lessons. You be careful, Ezra. Mind your Uncle Ethan, and answer my letters, and do good in school."

Ezra again nodded. "Yes, Mother." he said resignedly. He hesitated over something.

Maude could see clear as day he wanted to tell her something, and time was of the essence, so she said, "Well, Ezra, go on or don't but make up your mind. We're wasting time."

Ezra took a deep breath and blurted out, "Mother, must I go to Uncle Ethan? Daisy said he killed a servant for dropping a dish, and he's not really my uncle anyway, so why must I call him that?"

Daisy was a cousin of Ezra's, whom he encountered in the home of his Aunt and Uncle Bethany and James. It was through them that Maude had learned of a sort of family friend of theirs, Ethan Steinberg, who could use some help around the shipyard he owned, and would agree to take Ezra in exchange for some help on the weekends, when he was out of school.

"Now, Ezra, surely Daisy exaggerates," Maude said firmly, even though her heart did a little backflip. "You will call him your uncle because I said so."

"But, Mother, he could be a murd-"

"Ezra!" She exclaimed sharply. "You will not disgrace your family or disrespect your elders by saying such things without absolute certainty. Is that clear?"

He nodded mutely, but she knew by the stubbornness in his eyes that all she'd done was ensure he'd not repeat it in her presence.

"Now, Ezra darlin', give your mother a kiss," she said. He complied, just a little stiffly, probably because Mr. Candon was staring at their interaction with such distaste. Hadn't he ever been taught not to gawk? Maude wondered silently, as she wished Ezra a final goodbye and stepped back, the carriage rattling away.

She turned to her mark, the completely uninteresting Mr. Terrance Candon, and plastered on a smile, engaging in the cheerful sort of talk that a future groom and his bride-to-be would be expected to engage in, as they walked to the house, his slaves following behind with the luggage.

Of course, this talk was all an act. No doubt it would have been no matter what thoughts were running through her. This man was a cash dispenser, yes, but have feelings for the man? Certainly not. Feelings for his money, most definitely, but not for him.

She did, however, have feelings for Ezra, far too many for either of their own goods, and now they were acting up. All because of the hearsay of a little cousin called Daisy.

For pete's sake, the child's age didn't even amount to double-digits.

She had to be mistaken.

She had to be.

Didn't she?

Of course she did. Maude Standish was many things, most of which you didn't say in polite company, but she would never throw her own son to the wolves. And since she'd sent Ezra to his uncle, and she wouldn't have sent Ezra to the wolves… then his uncle had to be perfectly fine.

That was that.

And as far as the world was concerned, Ethan and Ezra were related. She had already made up her mind about that. From then on, the two would be uncle and nephew.

Killed a servant? For dropping a dish?

Nonsense. It was all nonsense.

There was a large difference between a servant and a nephew… honorary nephew.

Nonsense. It was the only acceptable answer.

And he'd only be there on the weekends.

She wondered how he'd killed the…. how he'd allegedly killed the…

No! He hadn't done anything. He was a nice, normal man, just like James said he was, and in a few months she'd get Ezra and take him to Chicago and run a con and everything would be back to normal.

She had nothing to worry about, she had a con to focus on, Ezra was safe, and Daisy told tall tales. It was the only acceptable answer.

So why couldn't she accept it?

**A/N: The following scenario was inspired by an absolutely lovely character study of Maude, which can be found at a link that I will cleverly insert at the very bottom. Anyway, she said she didn't think Maude would ever have knowingly left her son with someone who would have brought harm to him, as many fanfic writers seem to believe she would. This, of course, made me think: What would happen if she did so unknowingly? How would she fix it?**

**So, I'll let Maude save the day. :)**

**Link to that study: valiha. dreamwidth 7603. html#cutid1 (take out all the spaces and paste it into your address bar).**


	11. And This is Why the Rating Went Up

**A/N: I'm not so mean as to leave you wondering for months and days.**

**You may or may not believe the ending, but believe it or not that is what I had planned as soon as their personal day-saver was written into the scene at the beginning. :)**

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Maude couldn't help herself. When Terrance told his wife he'd be out of town for a month or so, she almost exclaimed in joy. Instead, she expressed her sincere regrets and how much she'd miss him, and assured him she would somehow survive without him for a while.

She helped him pack and wished him goodbye, and then, when she was sure he was gone… she went on a business trip. To a shipyard in Maryland, owned by Ethan Steinberg… assisted by one Ezra Standish.

She never did this. She never hauled off in the middle of a con to check up on her son unless it proved profitable. It was bad business, could lead disgruntled marks to her son, and gave him false hope, not to mention broke her concentration.

And yet here she was, breaking her concentration. Giving him false hope, engaging in bad business practices, possibly leading danger to her son's door. All because of the hearsay of a little cousin months ago.

She just couldn't get the thought out of her mind. She couldn't accept the only acceptable answer. She had to see for herself.

She knew she was being silly. Ezra would be fine, Maude knew it, and he'd question why she'd come. She'd say a mother didn't need an excuse to visit her darlin' boy…. and shortly thereafter, she'd leave.

She repeated this plan in her head as she rode in the carriage, boarded a train, rode in another carriage and stepped out before a big old house that was slightly dilapidated.

She stared at it for a long moment.

"You sure this is where you wanted to go, lady?" asked the driver, eyeing the house in suspicion. It looked like trouble, he thought. He'd definitely need to check up on this.

"Yes, of course, sir." Maude said. She tipped him generously and sent him on his way, as she started towards the gate. She studied the huge, iron mass for several seconds, before experimentally grabbing hold of the bars and pulling.

Nothing.

So she pushed. Still, nothing.

"What can we do for you?"

A sudden voice, seemingly from thin air, came so close to breaking her long-practiced composure that it was nearly mortifying.

"I want to visit my son," she told the air, glancing this way and that in an attempt to locate the source of the voice.

"What makes you think he's here?"

Maude huffed in annoyance. "I sent him here myself."

She faced the direction she thought the voice came from… aha, there. There was a gatekeeper off to the left, eyeing her from inside the door of his little shack.

"Sorry ma'am. You can't come in."

Maude scowled at the discovered the source. "I want to visit my son!" she repeated forcefully.

"Who might that be, ma'am?" the gatekeeper asked.

"Ezra Standish, sir," Maude said, with as much dignity as she could muster.

The man backed into his little shack, returning after a long moment. "I'm right sorry ma'am, but the boss says you can't come in."

"What? He's my son!" Maude exclaimed, incredulously.

"Ma'am, Mr. Steinberg said we weren't to let in no visitors that didn't notify they were coming a week in advance." the gatekeeper explained apologetically.

Maude resisted the urged to childishly stamp her foot in irritation, but only just. "Sir," she hissed through the gate, "my own son is inside these walls. I will get inside if I must climb the gates."

After a moment of silence, the man nodded slowly and walked up to the gates. He reached up, high above Maude's head, and unhooked something, and swung the gate open enough for her to enter.

"Don't you tell him I let you in, ma'am," the man said. "Tell him you climbed over the wall at the back if you have to, but keep me out of it. I've got a wife and kids," he added.

Maude nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it.

He nodded and pointed up the drive. "That there's the main house… your son will be in his room in the attic."

She turned a surprised look on him. "He should be in school on a Friday, sir. He is only here on weekends and holidays."

The man shrugged. "You wouldn't know it."

"Well, thank you again," she said absently, setting off up the drive.

Something was definitely wrong here.

She came to the main house a while later, eyeing the large wooden front door with a respectful wariness. She took a deep breath, applied her best poker face and cheerful smile, and walked boldly up to the door, ringing the bell.

After several rings, a servant opened the door. His eyes widened at the sight of her, but after staring dumbfounded for a few seconds, he ushered her inside and asked what her business was.

"Mr. Steinberg is taking a nap right now…"

"No worries then. I am here to pay a visit to my son," Maude said brightly. "I've been told his room is in the attic?" She was, of course, secretly mortified that in a grand house like this, a Standish would have to stay in the attic.

"Your son is young Ezra?" the servant said.

"Yes, sir," she said proudly, surprised to find that pride wasn't entirely an act.

"Well, ma'am, I have strict orders to-"

"But sir- he's my son! I've missed him terribly, and his father is deathly ill. I've come to take him to his father's death bed. I haven't much time. Please, do tell me you won't stop us?" And Maude implored him with the most convincing things she could come up with on a split second's notice.

The man blinked at her twice, and glanced nervously up the grand staircase to what must have been Ethan Steinberg's chambers. "Well, ma'am, I suppose… if you get in and out quick. Mr. Steinberg can't know you've come."

"Thank you, sir," Maude said demurely, as she gathered her skirts and stepped towards the stairs.

"Go up two flights, and then take the back stairs behind the white door to the attic," the servant instructed. Waving to show she had heard him, she made her way up the stairs, located the white door, and turned the knob.

It was locked. Her son was locked in the attic of a manor, and when she figured out who'd done it… Lord, help them.

In the mean time, she pulled a hairpin from her hair, and used it to pick the lock. It was really frightfully easy, she noted, and wondered why Ezra had not done that himself. There must have been a reason he hadn't.

She entered the attic, closing the door softly behind her, and walked up the stairs, slowly. She reached the top, and glanced this way and that.

She walked slowly down the hall, passing the open doors and open beds of what must have been servant's chambers, again silently fuming that her son had to share his room with these people.

At the end of the attic, on the back side of the house, was a white door. Curious, she turned the knob- or tried to. It, too, was locked. With a huff of frustration, she took out her hairpin again and picked it, jabbing the pin firmly back into her style as she swung the door open and closed it behind her.

In the corner was a bed, which to Maude looked more like a cot. There was nothing else in the room, and even the windows were shuttered closed.

Pressed in a shaking lump in the middle of the mattress… was a small figure in clothing she recognized.

Locking the door behind her just in case, she stood carefully in front of the offending door and said, "Ezra, darlin', you're wrinkling your clothes! Gentlemen do not sprawl out on the bed like a runner rug in the middle of the day."

A chestnut head slowly rose from the bed, watery green eyes stared at her in pure shock.

Or rather, _a_ watery green eye. Her son had a black eye and a large hand mark on his cheek.

"M-mother?" he gasped.

Maude smiled at him as best she could, given the circumstances. "Why of course, darlin'. Who else could it be?" She ignored the way he tensed up at the "who else" bit. "Now, come here and give your mother a hug and a kiss." And she knelt down on the floor so that she'd be at his level.

Ezra stared at her as though he couldn't believe she was there, but he still peeled himself off the bed… cot... whatever, and slid to the floor, walking slowly over to her. He gave her a tentative kiss on the cheek.

When he was certain she was a tangible thing, not just a figment of his imagination, he threw his arms around her neck, dropped his head to her shoulder, and burst into tears.

She sat perfectly still for a moment, and then carefully brought both arms around him to return the hug. She really didn't know what else she could do.

She gave him awhile to get it out of his system and compose himself, before she pushed him away from her and put a finger under his chin, lifting his face to look at him.

"Lordy, Ezra," she half-whispered. "However did that happen to you?"

Ezra looked her in the eye and said, "I fell."

Maude was raising her son to be a master liar, a con man with no tells. But his lessons hadn't totally been mastered yet, and even so, he was her son- she could see right through most every poker face, every lie, and every angle he created. She would probably always be able to.

"Ezra," she said firmly, "You did not fall, and we both know it. Now, I'll find out one way or another, so you may as well tell me now."

Ezra shook his head. "He said he'd hurt you."

"Who, Ezra?" Maude asked.

Ezra just shook his head.

"Ezra P. Standish," Maude exclaimed, "I demand, as your mother, that you cease trying to protect me and tell me what is going on around here!" More softly, she added, "Who did this to my sweet baby boy?"

Ezra shut his eye- since the other one was shut for him- and whispered, "Uncle Ethan."

"Mr. Steinberg," Maude corrected her son. "He is not your uncle, nor is he any relation of mine."

She pulled Ezra back into a hug, and told herself she did it entirely for his benefit.

She almost believed it.

After a bit, she pulled back again and placed a hand on each of Ezra's shoulders. "Has this ever happened before?"

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Is it just your eye?"

He shook his head.

"Where, then?"

He didn't move a muscle.

"I need to see, son," she whispered.

He heaved a sigh, and unbuttoned his little vest and his little shirt. Then he pulled them open.

Maude couldn't help it. She gasped at the number of bruises.

She gently pulled both articles of clothing shut and buttoned them, giving Ezra a kiss on the forehead before she stood up.

"We're getting out of here," she said, "And I'm going to take you back with me."

She leaned down and picked Erza up, even though he was kind of big for that, and off she went, out the bedroom door, out the attic door, down the first flight of stairs, and on to the second.

She assumed the servants would argue about their sudden departure, but what she didn't count on was Mr. Steinberg's "nap" being over.

If the servants called what he'd been doing in his room napping, Maude hated to guess what they called it when he was up and about.

He was obviously drunk. Very, very drunk.

And he was also obviously very, very, angry.

He was standing (or perhaps swaying) on the staircase, bellowing something about good-for-nothing servants.

At the bottom of the stairs, in an awkward heap, was the man who'd let them through the front door, and he was not moving.

Maude turned about, to try and escape by the back stairs, but she wasn't fast enough. Mr. Ethan Steinberg turned around, and took in the sight of the woman with the finery, the hat, the jewels, and the little boy.

"Well well," he slurred, "Who the hell're you?"

Maude took a deep breath and stood up straight, even though Ezra went tense at the sound of his voice. "I am Millie Candon. This is my son, and I'm taking him to live with my new husband and I." Maybe Terrance didn't care for children, but he would never harm one.

"No you ain't," said Mr. Steinberg, staggering towards them. "He's stayin' right here, lady." He flexed his hands. "Need somethin' to work out my frustrations on."

Maude took an involuntary step backward, as he and his stench of whiskey drew nearer than she liked. "I think not," Maude said firmly. "You'll just have to find something else to use."

He grinned at her, this ferral, ugly grin, and said, "Well now, how's about if I stop you?"

Before she could react, one of his meaty hands shot out and struck her. With a cry of pain, her arms fell numb and Ezra, who was already trying to squirm out of her grasp, went sailing into the nearby wall, as she crumpled to her knees. The numbness only lasted a few seconds, before agony set in, and the next blow didn't help matters in the slightest.

The third and fourth however, brought up an inviting blackness, where she didn't feel the pain, if she'd only give in.

Ezra's frightened cry drew her mind back from the black hole that was trying to suck it in. "Mother!"

She forced her eyes open and turned her head. She could see Ezra… well, two of Ezra, standing up with the help of the wall, and saying, "You had best leave her alone, sir. A gentleman never hits a lady."

Maude couldn't really hear very well; it sounded as though everything was underwater, but she could read lips. She wondered distractedly if Ezra was trying to get himself killed by mouthing off.

The backhand that sent Ezra flying over the stairway banister was the thing that galvanized her bruised and bent body into action. She kicked the man on top of her where she knew it would count, with the the heel of the shoe she hadn't lost. Went he collapsed on the floor beside her, she pushed herself up with a groan, rescued her other shoe, and staggered towards the railing.

When she peered over, she was greeted with one of the most surprising but welcome sights she'd seen in a long while.

The carriage driver was standing there, cradling Ezra in two strong arms with an expression of wonder on his face. He looked up at her. "Uh, hello lady. Thought you might need a ride when you was finished, and when I came back by I came in here to see what all the hollerin' and bangin' and carryin' on was about, and the next thing I know this tyke comes sailing over and down here." He shook his head. "Just glad I was here when I was…" It was then he saw the state she was in. "Heavens, lady, you alright? What happened?" He shifted Ezra to one arm and hurried up the stairs to assist her.

She shook her head, breathless, and jerked it towards the upper hall, where Mr. Steinberg was trying to get to his feet. The carriage driver pulled a pistol out of his back waistband and pointed it at the drunk. "Hey, mister, don't you be movin' now. You don't do this to a lady and a kid and get away with it." The man turned bleary eyes on the carriage driver, and seeing the gun slowly sank down into a sitting position.

The carriage driver allowed Maude to grasp his arm as he shifted Ezra over his shoulder, using the other arm to cover the man as they backed away. "You try to follow us, I'll shoot you, I will," the man promised. They made it out the front door, before the tall, burly man stopped. He placed Ezra in Maude's arms, and then scooped her up and carried the both of them out to his waiting carriage. He settled them inside, climbed into his spot, and cracked the whip over his horses. "Yah!" he shouted, just as the sound of gunshots filled the air behind them.

He took them to his wife, who wrapped Maude's broken ribs and the cut on her forehead, and put salve on Ezra's cuts and bruises, and fed them, offering them a place to stay for the night. They didn't ask questions and neither did Maude.

Three days later, they took a train back to Alabama, where Mr. Candon's plantation was suddenly very enticing.

Maude kept Ezra with her until well after his eighth birthday; which was the longest she had since he'd been a baby.

But soon enough, she sent him back to the household of his cousin Daisy while she ran a con in San Francisco, attempting to lose herself in money and forget about what she'd experienced… even though she knew she never would.


	12. Familiar Suroundings

**A/N: This one is one of the shorter drabbles, which is odd considering how long this update took. It's because I actually wrote this all today. I've spent the past couple weeks doing anything but writing, which kind of sucks, but there's been circumstances out of my control. If anyone out there is the praying sort, I might ask if you'd add one for a family member of mine who is in the hospital. Just recently it didn't look good at all, but it seems to be turning around. I was babysitting her youngest daughter part of the week... she can certainly be handful! ;)**

**I am having a dilemma. My plan was to have a drabble for each year of Ezra's childhood. But I have no idea what else to have happen. I can only have them run so many cons, and I can only have Maude go after and drop off Ezra so many times before that becomes boring as heck. I'm really not sure if I should skip ahead a little or what.**

**Tellygirl: Yes, conning is very bad. I am also glad Ezra was given better, ahem, "role models" to have rub off on him when he stayed for that pardon and got sucked in somehow. And, yes, I was hoping to give Maude a "you go girl" moment or two, lol.**

**mikiss: I don't think Ezra was ever naturally ruthless. I think he ended up how he was raised; which to me makes more sense. I do, however, love the transformation thing what with the seven and all. (Some people who don't like Ezra as well [gasp! lol] have him as this hard-hearted conman who somehow started to grow a heart. That makes no sense to me; it seems better to have him have one that got buried and let the seven uncover it. :)**

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"Ezra, darlin', you are being most impertinent!"

Ezra glared back at her with surprising ferocity for an eight-year-old. "I will not be visiting Cousin Myra, and that is final."

Maude heaved a sigh and studied the determined set of his jaw, and the stubbornness of his eyes. She would not win this fight easily, and she knew it better than anyone. Ezra was reminding her of Patrick, arguing so vehemently with her.

"Whatever has gotten into you, Ezra?" She asked. "Your cousin Myra is a good woman and she'll take good care of you."

Ezra just shook his head. "Cousin Myra isn't really my cousin. Her kids hate me, and I don't like them either. Just take me with you, if you must, but I'm not going to see her."

Maude heaved a great sigh. She was going abroad to see if she could fleece the good people of Europe for a few months, and she simply wasn't going to drag her only child away from the ways of life he'd always known and thrust him into a potentially hostile environment. She'd managed to get "Cousin" Myra to agree to handle Ezra for her until she returned, but Ezra just wasn't having it.

"Ezra, you cannot come with me and you know it as well as I do." Maude said firmly.

Ezra continued to stare her down.

Maude broke the look first, glancing out the hotel window and taking a deep breath. She'd used up most the relatives of all her past husbands and all of her own relatives well. Patrick's relatives had all had their turns. No one was ready to have another turn so soon, and it really wouldn't be fair.

Who else did she know who would take Ezra while she was gone?

Then, the light-bulb went off in her head. She knew exactly who... if she presented the case correctly, he'd agree.

"You're not coming, Ezra," she said, "but you're not going to Cousin Myra, either."

Ezra looked a little hopeful. "Promise?"

"I promise, son." Maude offered him a smile and hurried to send a telegraph to Georgia.

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They drove into Georgia, up to the Mercer's plantation, in a fancy carriage that didn't actually belong to them. Appearances were everything, after all.

"Mother, I thought you said I'd been here before," Ezra said.

"You have, Ezra," Maude said brightly.

"I don't recall." Ezra returned, glancing from one window to the other in confusion.

Maude smiled at her son. "You were born here, baby boy!"

Before Ezra could really even think about that, the door opened and the footman assisted them from the carriage.

Maude took her son's hand, ignoring his wary looks around as she led him to the door and rang the bell.

It was opened by a servant, who ushered them in and led them to the parlor. Inside this parlor was Mr. Mercer, an old family friend of Patrick's, with whom Maude had stayed during her pregnancy, and one of his slaves… Patsy.

"Mr. Mercer, Patsy," Maude greeted them, nodding her head to each as she came into the room.

"Miz Standish," returned Patsy, dropping a curtsy.

Mr. Mercer nodded back. "Mrs. Standish. Sit down," and he gestured to a chair in the room. "Ah, this must be little Ezra, hmm?"

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir." Ezra said politely.

Mr. Mercer nodded to him. "Have a seat, son."

Ezra sat down beside his mother obediently.

Mr. Mercer offered them some refreshments, which Maude politely declined, even though Ezra perked up when he heard the word "cookies".

Mr. Mercer sat back in his seat and began, "So, Mrs. Standish. What is this proposition you wrote me about?"

Maude smiled as she launched into her plan. "I will be touring Europe for a while this year, Mr. Mercer, and I… well, I don't want to drag Ezra away from home, and I was hoping perhaps you could watch him for me." Seeing the man's expression, she hastened to add, "Not personally, of course. I was hoping Patsy would be assigned as his nurse."

Mr. Mercer glanced between Patsy and Maude. Patsy was getting older, and he had plenty of slaves to do the house work. There was no specific reason to deny the request.

Maude smiled demurely at Mr. Mercer and knew he was giving in. She knew Patsy would take wonderful care of her son, and she wouldn't need to worry while she was away. She trusted Patsy... she could clearly remember the days after she'd left the plantation with Ezra, half-wishing she'd brought Patsy along, and half wishing she'd left Ezra with Patsy. She hadn't at all known how to be a mother. She still wasn't sure if she truly did, but Lord, she tried.

"I suppose it could be arranged," Mr. Mercer finally said, interrupting her reverie.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Mercer. You won't regret it," Maude gushed, standing to take the man's hand. "His things are in the carriage outside. Would you show me the room he'll have?" After the incident with Delilah and Andrew, and with Mr. Ethan Steinberg, she wanted to see the room before she left her son in it.

"Certainly. Follow me." Mr. Mercer said, standing up. "It's the first room up on the second floor. I think he'll find it most satisfactory..." his voice trailed off as he stepped into the hallway.

Maude turned to Ezra as she started up the steps in the main hall. "You stay with Patsy for a few minutes, alright Ezra? I'll be back soon." She smiled at him. "Don't you worry, Darlin'. You'll love Patsy."

Ezra glanced over his shoulder at the motherly black woman, as he said, "Yes, Mother." He didn't look too sure, but then Patsy came up beside him and patted him on the shoulder to garner his attention. "Hello, honey child, ya must be Ezra. Lord, look at ya, child! Ya were just a little baby the last time I saw ya!" She fussed.

A tentative smile slid across Ezra's face.

Maude hurried after Mr. Mercer. This would work out just fine. She hoped Ezra would be all the better for staying with Patsy while she was gone. As long at the boy didn't try to practice his skills in front of her, they'd get along just fine.

She approved of the room, which was bright and cheery and big enough for ten Ezras, and agreed about the smaller room, also bright and cheery, which was attached to it and would be occupied by Patsy. She and Mr. Mercer came downstairs to find Patsy having somehow coerced Ezra into sitting on her lap and telling her what his favorite foods were.

She waited until there was a lull in their conversation to intterupt. "Ezra, dear, I've got to be going. I'll miss my train if I wait," she said.

Ezra hurried over to her- or started to hurry. A pointed look from her sent him back to a normal, more dignified and graceful pace. She knelt down so he could kiss her cheek, and she gave him a tight hug. She was going across the ocean, after all.

"Don't go, Mother. I like Patsy, but she isn't you." The whispered words beside her ear made that faint motherly instinct of hers question her decisions. Her rational side, however, won out, and she gave him a kiss as she whispered, "You'll hardly have time to miss me, Ezra, I promise."

He pulled away and gave her an, 'I've-heard-that-before' look. She just smiled, stood up, and hurried towards her waiting carriage, ignoring that niggling voice in her head that demanded to know why she was so intent upon hurting her little boy.

**A/N: I realized too late that there's a very bad man called Mr. Mercer in _The Making Of Ezra Standish_ by PsychedelicCowgirl. I had no intention of copying at the time, nor is my Mr. Mercer a bad guy. :p**


	13. Temporary Delays

**A/N: Another of the shorter ones. Preston Wingo gave me this idea, but this a set up for some canon-scene-based-character-study that may come later on, so I'm not copying... not really anyway, lol.**

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Maude stared down at the piece of paper she'd just signed, and wished she could tear it all up and declare what is said a lie. But it wasn't, and she couldn't.

With a sigh, she sealed it into an envelope and gave it to a servant of her latest conquest, who took the missive to be mailed to the Mercer's plantation.

She sat down at her desk again and looked out her window, not seeing what was outside at all.

Somehow, Europe just wasn't as enchanting as it used to be.

"Ezra! There's a letter come for you in the mail. I think it's from your mother," called Mrs. Mercer from the bottom of the stairs. Seconds later, Ezra came bouncing down the steps in search of the missive he'd been insisting he would receive, even though the adults were doubtful.

She handed him the letter, smiling a little at his enthusiasm to open it. He was rarely enthusiastic about anything… cookies and his mother were really about it.

He hurried up the stairs again with his letter, with a quick, "Thank you, ma'am," and a nod to her. Mrs. Ann Mercer shook her head as she watched him go. He was a strange child, she thought. She couldn't get him to call her Ann, or even Mrs. Ann- it was always Mrs. Mercer, or ma'am, and once or twice, madam. He wouldn't even read his mail in front of her. With one last look, she returned to her daily duties, pushing thoughts of their strange little houseguest aside.

Ezra sat on his bed and stared at the front of the letter for a long moment. It was his mother's handwriting. Half wondering, and half dreading what it would say, he tore it open and read the letter.

Dearest Ezra;

I hope you are enjoying your time with Mr. and Mrs. Mercer, and Patsy. I have been

mostly enjoying my time in Europe as well.

It seems that I will be rather delayed in returning home to you, Ezra darlin'. I am very

sad to say that I won't be home for your ninth birthday. I will, however, be home for your

tenth one, so don't worry, darlin'.

A man here has captured my interests and we stand to, potentially, make a fortune. I

know you'll understand, son.

Signed;

Your loving mother

Ezra sighed forlornly as he stared at the paper in his hands. Surely, his mother valued his birthday over some man in Europe… didn't she?

Maude carefully refolded the letter from her son, which she had read twice through without feeling any better. The letter was cheerful enough, assuring her that it would be fine and he looked forward to her return in a year's time.

But she knew her son. He wasn't really all that cheerful right now, nor had he been when he'd written that letter full of lies.

She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and a glance around the lavishly furnished room. She couldn't really fault Ezra for writing her letters full of lies, seeing as how she'd done the same thing.

She told her son she valued him less than a mark. This was the lie. She valued him far, far more than any mark, ever. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell him the real reason she was delayed. She couldn't say that a slimey man who occasionally took after her physically when he drank, had blackmailed her into marrying him. She couldn't say she was biding her time to escape back to America. She couldn't say the slimy Mr. Calvin had threatened harm to her son if she told him the truth.

But it didn't matter, did it? She wanted Ezra to think he could only rely on himself… because he could only rely on himself. The world was a fickle and deadly place, as her current predicament proved. She had no one to save her, and he would have no one to save him. It was best he learn that now.

So, she would wait. She would endure this hell, she would bide her time, she would escape, she would return home…. she would not miss her son's tenth birthday. Not if she could help it.


	14. Better Late Than Never

Maude scowled at her day calendar with the air of one fully intending to kill the object of their intentions. It was 27th of the month already? Lord, help her. She'd intended to be back in Georgia by now, but no. She was on a train, almost to Georgia, but not quite. She wouldn't actually get to the Mercer's plantation until tomorrow.

She was going to miss her darling boy's birthday. She jammed the calendar back into her bag with a solid thumping noise.

It had been a difficult task to escape from the clutches of Mr. Calvin. She had finally managed to turn a servant or two to her side and had made her escape in the dark of night. She'd stolen some of his money- heck, he'd already accused her of far worse to get her to marry him; and the skunk deserved it anyway, as far as she was concerned- and, wearing a high necked dress to hide her most recent bruise from his heavy hand, she bought tickets home and sailed across the ocean once more. She traveled across country by train and carriage, alternating, and here she was, seven hours from Georgia, nine from the plantation.

She knew Ezra would react badly to her in person, trying to decide what she was doing exactly, trying to see what she valued him as exactly, if as anything at all. She was going to make sure she didn't give any hint as to how she valued him or loved him.

It was the only way he'd ever learn, she scolded that niggling little voice she hated so.

Just as she'd thought, her carriage pulled up outside the main house of the plantation very early the next morning, on the 28th. She knew Mrs. Mercer would be up, and a knock on the door brought the woman herself hustling over from her morning tea, greeting Maude in surprise and delight.

Maude went up to Ezra's room, finding her son predictably still asleep. She leaned down to adjust the blankets, and smiled when a pair of sleepy green eyes blinked at her. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear. I came as quick as I could but I didn't quite make it. I am sorry love, but we can celebrate today, if you like." She gave him a kiss, not giving him time to respond. "Go back to sleep, Ezra."

He blinked at her a couple more times, but finally nodded slightly and closed his eyes.

Maude sat down in a chair on the other side of the bed and leaned back with a huge sigh. Her son was ten years old. And she'd missed it.

For the first time, she really questioned her lifestyle, the lifestyle she provided for Ezra- but she quickly dismissed that. She'd begun this way, and she'd carry on this way. End of conversation, as far as she was concerned. There was no turning back, not admitting to being wrong, now.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, to wait for Ezra to decide how to react to her when he was actually awake. He would set the pace- animosity, or doting mother? She would play whichever part he prompted.


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